


Don't Write Me Off

by javajunkie



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Drama & Romance, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 14:37:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3212756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/javajunkie/pseuds/javajunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver returns to the city he left and the woman he loved.  OLICITY</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Write Me Off

           Don't Write Me Off

He comes back in the middle of everything.  A war is raging in Starling City, and no one is immune. The streets are no longer safe, and no family dares pass a night without someone guarding the front door. It’s chaos – total and absolute mayhem – and those brave enough to fight it don’t seem anywhere close to fixing it.

            There are too many bad guys and not enough good.  The police force is easily overwhelmed, and the men grow jaded as they see their brothers slain in action.   In the end, only the most fervent remain, fighting alongside the masked vigilantes whom they’ve learned to trust and value.  At the front is Quentin Lance, strategizing the next moves with his masked comrades as naturally as if they were in uniform.

            There is so much commotion, that no one notices his return.  At least no one out on the streets.  When he takes the stairs down to the foundry, his hand gliding along the bannister, the first thing he sees is her ponytail.

            “I have eyes on one of their weapon storage units,” Felicity says when she hears the movement behind her, not looking up from her screen. “It’s pretty heavily guarded, but I think I have a way you guys can get in.  Do you think-“

            She spins around in her chair and stops short when she sees him. He begins to move toward her but then hesitates when she grasps the arms of her chair tightly, the lean muscles in her arms pronounced.

            “You can’t be here,” she breathes out.  “You-you’re dead.”

            “I’m not dead,” he tells her gently.

            “But you are.  I saw the sword. I tested the blood on it. It was yours.  The blood was _yours_ , you are _dead.”_

He carefully steps forward. “I don’t have time to explain. They need me out there. Can we just –“

            “I’m hallucinating,” she interrupts in a strained voice. “I have to be hallucinating. Because you are not real. You can’t be real, because you did three months ago.  You died and –“

            He closes the distance between them and crouches down in front of her, gently taking a hold of her hands.

            “I am not dead, Felicity.  It’s me. It’s really me.”

            “But, that’s impossible.”

            “I know,” he murmurs, squeezing her hands.  “But. I’m here.  I need you to believe that.”

            She draws her hand from his and tentatively lays it on his cheek. His stubble prickles the pads of her fingers.  It’s impossible, she can’t stop thinking that, it’s all impossible but here he is in front of her, looking and feeling very much real. 

            “Felicity,” he murmurs, her name on his tongue unlocking the hope she’s hidden away for so long, and she crashes against him, arms tight around his neck.

            “It’s you,” she murmurs, disbelief coloring her words.  “It’s really you.”

            He gathers her in his arms, pressing his lips against her temple as she murmurs the same affirmation over and over.  It’s him.  It’s really him. And in his head, over and over, he whispers, _It’s her…It’s really her_.

            Oliver pulls away after a long moment, smoothing her hair away from her face.

            “Where are Digg and Roy?”

            “In the Glades,” she says automatically.  “There’s been an uprising-“

            “I know,” he interrupts.  “Can you tell me exactly where they are?”

            “You’re going to go out there?”  she asks in a dull tone.  “After everything that happened?”

            “It’s because of everything that happened that I have to,” he presses. “This is what I have to do, Felicity. I can’t let my city crumble.”

            “It’s not just your city,” she says.  “And it’s not your responsibility to save.”

            “Felicity.”

            The way he says her name tells her that argument is all but moot. He’s made up his mind, and she knows better than to try to convince him otherwise.  Still, it’s a new sort of pain to send him back out after just getting him back.  She hasn’t even fully processed his return, and already she has to let him go. He senses the hesitation and tells her, “I’m coming back.”

            “You’ve said that once before,” she returns obstinately.

            He steps toward her and she can see it happening.  Another good bye.  Another moment where she watches him leave, not knowing whether he’ll return. She steps back at the last moment, putting her hands out in front of her.

            “Don’t,” she says.  “I don’t think I can handle another good bye.”

            He nods and begins to turn toward the door, but then he reconsiders and turns back to her, one hand bracing the curve of her neck as he brings his mouth down against hers.  It’s nothing like their other kisses.  Those had been tender and unrushed.  This time it’s a mess of teeth and gums, his desperation and her fear coming to a fever pitch. She clings to him, her fingers pulling at the material of his shirt.  When he pulls away his eyes are glassy.

            “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he murmurs.

            “If you die on me again I am going to be really pissed,” she says, tugging at his shirt. 

            “I’ll try not to do that, then.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Oliver dons his green suit again and joins the fight.  He sees that a few new players have joined the vigilante game. There’s Laurel as the Black Canary, and he’s surprised to see Ray Palmer in the mix, calling himself the Atom. Ray looks on in confusion as Laurel, Diggle, and Roy greet him with stilted disbelief. 

            “I thought all you vigilantes knew each other,” Ray remarks.

            “Felicity,” Diggle says immediately, thinking of the one who had taken Oliver’s absence the hardest.

            “I already saw her,” Oliver says.  He grins a bit at the memory of her mouth beneath his.  He’d spent so many days and nights dreaming about it that it feels a bit surreal to have an actual tactile memory. 

            Diggle pulls him into a tight hug and says, “It’s really good to have you back, Oliver.”

            The four of them work well with the remaining police force, and they almost seem to get a foothold in The Glades.  With Felicity’s help they infiltrate the weapon storage unit and take out a good portion of the rebels’ arms.  They still have a long way to go, but it’s a start.

            That night the streets are quiet.

            Oliver goes to see Thea, but finds the apartment is empty.  He learns that Malcolm took her away from Starling before the fighting broke out, and for that he is grateful.  He considers staying at the foundry in case anything happens overnight, but against all reason he ends up at her door.

            She doesn’t answer at first, and he thinks that’s probably smart. Starling City has become somewhere where you shouldn’t answer doors at night.  But when he knocks again, loudly announcing himself, she opens almost immediately, greeting him timidly in her turquoise polka dot flannel pajamas.

            She locks the door behind him, glancing quickly through the peep hole before turning back toward him.  It’s such a relief to see him standing in front of her, sturdy and alive, that she lets out an audible sigh.

            “I was going to go to the foundry.  You don’t mind that I’m here, do you?”

            “No,” she says immediately.  “Not at all. I’m glad you’re here. I’m…” she breaks off with a grin, “…I’m happy you’re anywhere, frankly.  But especially here.  I like you here.”

            He steps forward and palms her waist.  “I like being here, too.”

            It’s been so long since he’s touched her.  Back before the duel he was always touching. He was nudging her shoulder or brushing her arm.  It was all perfectly innocent, but enough to satisfy his yearning to be near her.

            She steps closer and brings her arms around his waist, pressing her head against his chest.  Beneath her ear, his heart beats strongly.  She feels his hands skim along her hips, and his mouth finds hers.

            They’ve never been this close before, but it feels perfectly normal. Natural.  It’s as if their bodies were made to fit together, his hand fitting perfectly against the small of her back, her mouth on the hollow beneath his chin.

            She doesn’t consciously make the decision for them to move to her bedroom, but it happens anyway.  They lose themselves in each other, and times seems to stand still as they explore each other’s bodies with shameless fervor.  When he moves inside her, she finally understands why they call it an act of love.

            “You are perfect,” he murmurs afterwards, running a finger down her arm. “You are absolutely perfect.”

            “No, I’m not,” she returns softly.  “I talk too much.  And I don’t floss.”

            He chuckles, his chest rumbling beneath her ear.  “I’ve been told I don’t talk enough, so you make up for that.”

            She grins. “I like that.”

            “I’d like to note, by the way, that I didn’t come over here to do…this.”

            “Do what?” she asks deviously, glancing up at him.

            He smirks, dropping a kiss to her forehead. “I missed you, you know.”

            His words give a sobering effect to the moment and she presses her face against his chest.  “I missed you, too. With you gone…it was like I lost a part of myself.”

            “I know what you mean,” he says softly.  His voice sounds far away and she glances up at him.  His expression is placid, but she can tell by the set of his eyes that he’s gone back to whatever hell he escaped.

            “Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.  “We don’t have to, but…do you want to?”

            He’s quiet for a moment and then says, “It was someone from my time in Hong Kong.”

            “What?”

            “Who saved me,” he says.  “It was Maseo. I saved his wife Tatsu back when we were in Hong Kong.  He saved me to repay the favor.”

            “But, the sword…”

            “The fight still happened,” Oliver says.  “And, Ra…he still won.  But Maseo must have snuck back and gathered my body afterwards.  I came to in a cabin of sorts.  He told me that Tatsu had used some ancient herbs to tend to my wound.”

            Felicity runs her finger along the raised scar just below his ribcage. From his time on the salmon ladder she knew every mark and raised edge on his body, and this one is new.

            “Are you fully healed?” she asks.

            He smirks a bit and tells her, “We couldn’t have done what we just did if I wasn’t.”

            Her cheeks turn a bright pink.  “Oh, right.”

            “I like it when you blush,” he murmurs, bringing his hand up to trace her cheekbone.

            “Where are they now?”  Felicity asks after a moment.  “Maseo and Tatsu. Are they in Starling City?”

            Oliver shakes his head.  “I don’t know where they are.  Likely somewhere remote. The League will not look kindly upon Maseo interfering.”

            “I can only imagine.”

            “They’ll be okay, though.  They know how to disappear.”

            “I feel like I should send them a fruit basket or something.”

            “A fruit basket?” he repeats, the grin evident in his voice.

            “Or something,” she reminds him glibly.  Her fingers graze his nipple and he sucks in a quick breath. “They brought you back to me.”

 

* * *

 

 

            The next morning he leaves her again, but she lets him say good bye, lets him give her a lingering kiss before he departs to join the fight again. She returns to the foundry and does her part, keeping an eye on the action and lending a hand when she can. The action seems to change every hour. One the vigilantes and police are ahead, the next the rebels.  Every time she hears a casualty over the intercom her body seizes with fear, but she gets through it.  Because this is the job, and this is the life she chose, and she’ll get through it. 

            And she does.  She gets through it. They all do.  It’s a bloody few weeks as the war rages on, but then there’s a break and the vigilantes take a hold of The Glades.  They beat down the opposition, and miraculously maintain their victory.  It’s over almost as abruptly as it started, and the city comes back to life.  Businesses slowly begin to open their doors again, and the streets fill with people lacking guns or armor. 

            Life goes on, and it does so for the vigilantes, too.  Ray Palmer continues his work with Star Labs but refocuses to help the police department develop better defense mechanisms. Laurel, recognizing that she doesn’t have a taste for the violent life of a vigilante goes back to where she really thrives – the courtroom.  Roy continues as Arsenal, growing stronger and faster every day.  He becomes an urban legend in his own right, garnering almost as much media coverage as Oliver, himself.  Diggle steps away from the Arrow cave when he announces Lyla is pregnant with their second child.  Before Lyla shows too much, they have a small wedding ceremony.  Oliver stands up as best man, Felicity as maid of honor.

            “They look so happy,” Felicity remarks to Oliver afterwards, watching the newlywed couple dance.

            “They do,” he agrees.  “I guess that’s what marrying someone you love can do for you.”

            She grins, taking her hand in his.  Her wedding ring glimmers in the late afternoon sun.  Their own wedding was even smaller than Diggle and Lyla’s, only Diggle, Lyla, Roy, Thea, and her mother in attendance.  He asked her on a lazy Saturday morning while she was doing a crossword puzzle.  She asked him what a five letter word for ideal was, and he answered with, “Will you marry me?”

            Needless to say, she said yes, and three weeks later they were married in an intimate ceremony.  They spent the next entire week in bed, until they finally agreed they should probably go to work or at least leave her apartment.

            “You guys going to come out here for a dance?” Diggle calls out, pulling their attention away from each other.  His bride grins over at them, her formfitting white dress showing just the slightest hint of a curve at her belly.

            “What do you say?”  Oliver asks Felicity.

            “I’m pretty sure you’re not allowed to deny a groom anything on his wedding day,” Felicity returns with a grin.

            They go out to where Diggle and Lyla are dancing and join them. Oliver slides his arm around Felicity’s waist, and she moves closer to him, resting her chin on his shoulder.

            “I love you,” he murmurs, fingers brushing her side.

            She turns her face in toward his neck and answers, “I love you, too.”


End file.
